Courtship Rituals
by Kelly Holden
Summary: Not every sentient species has the same ideas when it comes to romance. SportaRobbie implied S&M, Steph/OFC, Bessie/Milford.
1. Chapter 1

"Hello Stephanie. Your letter was rather cryptic, what do you want?" Sportacus asked, as he landed practically in front of her. Stephanie clutched 'Gremlin Biology & Culture' harder, still uncertain this was the right course of action. 

"I think you need to read this," she said nervously, and shoved the book at him while opening it to the sticky note at the beginning of the 'Courtship Rituals' chapter.

He sat down, and took it from her with a puzzled look that became a stunned one as he read. He reached the end of the chapter introduction and looked up."Stephanie, are you suggesting what I think you are?"

Stephanie nodded. "It _fits_. The description could be coincidence, but the behaviour patterns, no. And it's not just courtship ones that fit, either."

Sportacus sighed, and handed the book back. "Robbie must think I'm the biggest tease ever. I had no idea."

"I didn't think you did, that's why I thought you needed to know. It didn't matter that Robbie might be a Gremlin until I recognised what I saw in that chapter."

"Well, on the bright side, nobody else is going to know I spent two years accidentally almost but not quite responding to his attempts to court me."

Stephanie sat beside him, and stared at her feet. "It's an assignment. Not Gremlins specifically, but we have to do a presentation on a non-human culture, in pairs. Me and Ziggy are working together."

"Oh."

"Yeah. What are you going to do?" Stephanie asked.

"I'm not quite sure. Can I borrow the book?"

"I'll need it back, but for now, sure."

* * *

Sportacus hadn't spent an entire afternoon reading since he was a child. While he did enjoy reading, he had difficulty keeping still long enough to read more than a few pages in a sitting. This, though, was _important;_ he needed to know how to handle Robbie's doubtless very hurt feelings, and it was all the information he had.

Further reading of the chapter suggested that not _all_ of Robbie's schemes met the criteria of courtship behaviour; unless the genie had been 'in on it', _that_ attempt to make him leave town must have been genuine, as it had been Robbie's last wish. He hardly blamed Robbie for that, as many times Sportacus's response to these attempts had been in line with Gremlin courtship, up until he failed to claim his 'reward' later in private. Much as he'd said to Stephanie, he must have come across as a terrible cocktease.

He sighed and put the book down. There was barely time left before bedtime to eat a little and clean his teeth, there was nothing more he could do now.

* * *

Robbie was startled awake by Sportacus nearly landing on him. With his startled flailing, he up-ended the cheesy nibbles he'd been eating when he drifted off all over himself and the floor, and tipped the recliner over backward. Sportacus gallantly helped him to his feet, then made an overly thorough and lingering attempt to brush the cheesy nibble dust off of him. It was almost sexual in a ridiculously friendly fashion. Robbie's breath caught in his throat; not another tease, please. God, how warped a creature must he be that he was interpreting being _patted_ as sexual? Just because humans were so prudish about proper sexual touch they never showed it, replacing it in fiction and public with caresses more suitable for family and friends than lovers --

"Robbie," Sportacus's voice broke firmly through his thoughts, "I think we need to talk."

* * *

"That makes no _sense_," Robbie complained when Sportacus got done explaining. Humans and Elves usually _preferred_ tenderness in bed?

"For you maybe, it didn't occur to _me_ that picking on someone could be considered a romantic overture to anybody over 10, let alone an entire species' normal adult behaviour," he replied, and then stood on his toes and kissed Robbie. It was a strange kiss for Robbie, soft and tender, but passionate in a way he never would have believed such a gentle touch could be. Sportacus's hands drifted back down Robbie's back, cupping his arse and pulling them closer together. The hardness he could feel against his thigh proved that this was working for _Sportacus_, and Robbie growled in frustration.

"Robbie?" Sportacus asked, pulling back a little.

"I don't know if I can do this this way," Robbie said sadly.

"We'll work it out," Sportacus replied, and bit his earlobe.

Robbie felt his eyes close and knees go weak, and only Sportacus's hold on him stopped him toppling over. He opened his eyes again to find Sportacus studying his face with interest.

"Well --" he started to say, sounding pleased.

"That's ... That's all right for you?" Robbie interrupted, unsure after Sportacus's explanation that an Elf could _stomach_ making love to a Gremlin 'properly'.

"As long as you don't need to bite back," Sportacus said.

Robbie smiled. "I'll be right."

Sportacus grinned at him, and then bit his neck.


	2. Chapter 2

Robbie really hadn't imagined it like this. In his head, their first time had been a rousing row, followed by a round or several of violently passionate lovemaking, then a trip to the hospital, perhaps for stitches.

Instead, Sportacus had barely touched him roughly enough for him to get off at all, had insisted on using such a ludicrously large amount of lube to penetrate him that he'd barely felt it, and then fallen asleep. He didn't need a sticking plaster, let alone stitches.

The worst thing was, Robbie really couldn't blame Sportacus for how awful it had been: Sportacus apparently came from a culture where hurting your lover was a heinous crime rather than normal sex, and had been acting against everything he knew to touch as roughly as he had.

Robbie had worried that Sportacus would have difficulty stomaching providing his sexual needs, and actually sleeping with him had just proved him right.

Robbie sighed. They just weren't sexually compatible; Sportacus needed to caress and cuddle, Robbie needed drawn blood. Two years of frustrated pining, and what did he get? The worst fuck of his life, that's what. As Robbie thought this, Sportacus's crystal went off.

Sportacus snapped awake and leapt out of Robbie's bed, making a bee-line for his vest. He picked it up, a puzzled expression crossed his face, and he dropped it and came back to the bed.

"Don't you have somebody to save?" Robbie asked, and Sportacus sat down beside him on the bed.

"That's what I'm doing, Robbie. _You_ set it off, what's the matter?"

"Wait, somebody could be getting raped or murdered in Somnia City without a peep, but it goes off because I'm a little upset? That makes no frickin' sense."

"It gets more sensitive with proximity. I can't save the whole world, and it knows that. So what are you 'a little upset' about?"

* * *

Stephanie rounded a corner in the park to find Sportacus lying on the bench, eyes open and lethargically watching the other kids play basketball. It was very odd, she'd _never_ seen Sportacus so still while conscious. She sat down carefully in front of him on the bench, so as not to sit on him or block his view.

"Why aren't you playing?" Stephanie asked.

"I'm not feeling well," he replied calmly.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" she asked, alarmed.

He shook his head. "Being around my friends helps."

She put a maternal hand on his forehead. "You feel a bit warm," she commented.

"Can't say I'm surprised," he said sleepily, his eyes drifting shut. She watched his face with concern for a minute, before her eyes drifted downwards, landing on a bite mark that was just visible through the gap between his neck and the collar of his t-shirt. She hooked a finger cautiously into his collar, hoping desperately that this wouldn't wake him, and pulled it down so she could see the bite properly. It was, if not human, then definitely from one of the once-hidden folk. A Gremlin bite would fit, and Gremlins bit in _passion_. 'Well, that's _interesting_,'she thought. 'I wonder if this is related.'

She looked at him again, frowning with concern, and noticed scratches on his bicep, once again human, or close to it.

"Robbie Rotten," she said quietly to herself, and stood. "I think I need to go to the library. There must be something that explains this."

* * *

It was a book called 'The High Places: Elven Society and Culture' that finally explained to Stephanie.

_While the marital bond formed upon intercourse is usually thought to be unbreakable except by death of the spouse, this is not strictly true. Breaking a marital bond voluntarily is, however, a difficult process that results in the death of the partner breaking in approximately half of cases. It also takes a sustained effort of will, and produces lethargy, weakness and fatigue extremely uncharacteristic for this people during the process. Elves driven to this act of desperation usually try to surround themselves with friends and family, as an Elf who is emotionally well-supported during bond-breaking can reduce their chance of it proving fatal to as low as 20._

"Why on _Earth _is he trying to break the bond?" she asked herself. "It must only have been created yesterday." A sudden horrified thought occurred to her. If he hadn't chosen it freely to begin with...

Robbie wouldn't, would he? She felt ill at the possibility, but decided to read a little further.

_Usually, it is only resorted to in cases of abusive relationships or having inadvertently had consensual intercourse with a non-Elf who doesn't wish to pursue a long-term relationship_.

That made Stephanie feel a little better, though she didn't really understand how two years of courtship behaviour could possibly add up to 'doesn't wish to pursue a long-term relationship'

_Those unfamiliar with the workings of the marital bond may wonder about forced intercourse, but bonds are only formed during consensual intercourse, the failure of a bond to form being considered conclusive legal evidence under Elven law that an act was not consented to._

Stephanie slammed the book shut and went to the borrowing desk. She had a friend to stop doing something stupid. Hopefully.

* * *

"You're back."

Stephanie breathed out shakily. "Yeah."

"Where did you go?" Sportacus asked, wondering what was the matter.

"The library," Stephanie said, and made a show of putting a book in her lap where he could see the title.

"Oh," he said quietly, "you've figured it out."

"Yes. What happened?" she asked, a little sharply.

"I think you have a pretty good idea of that already, " he replied wearily.

"But _why_?"

"I knew I was taking a risk, but I didn't think he'd give up so easily."

She gave him a puzzled look. "Sportacus?"

"As you would know from the book you let me borrow, we have very different needs. I thought he'd give us time to adjust before deciding we're incompatible, that's all."

"And what? He doesn't care that you're risking your life breaking the bond because --"

"I didn't tell him, Stephanie. Do you think I want to _force_ him to let me stay? Knowing the consequences to me would have meant he wouldn't have been able to make a decision based on what's best for him."

"And if you _die_? He's going to have to live with that, probably blaming himself. Not to mention everybody _else_ who'll be upset."

"I have a brother," Sportacus said, aware he probably sounded distant. "You'll barely notice the difference."

There was a sudden sting of pain in his cheek accompanied by the sound of skin striking skin, and Sportacus sat up, clutching his cheek.

Stephanie's face was as pink as her hair, her eyes shining with anger. "How dare you claim to be replaceable!" she snapped.

"I'm sorry," Sportacus replied, rubbing his cheek, "but Elves aren't true individuals the way the other peoples are. You really wouldn't notice the difference."

"Your _brother's_ not the one who noticed I came for the summer but was still here at Christmas, and _made_ me talk about it. Your _brother's_ not the one who was there for me when I realised I was growing up faster than the others. Your brother's not the one who had a gentle word with me about my wardrobe when my body changed. Your brother's not the one who helped me work out that I grew up unexpectedly fast and early because my father never bothered to tell Mom he's a sprite. Your brother, even if he's identical down to the last _hair_, is not the person who has been my friend these last two years."

Sportacus was speechless.

"You realise I have to tell him. I can't just let you do this," Stephanie added, and stood to leave.

"Stephanie --" Sportacus started to say.

"I'm sorry, Sportacus. I guess I'm selfish."

* * *

Robbie sat in his chair, brooding. He was starting to wonder if his decision hadn't been too hasty. There was no denying that he still wanted Sportacus, in spite of his sub-par performance.

He stood, and stalked over to the steps that led to the catwalk. "No," he told himself sharply. "A clean break before I get attached."

Then he sighed and sunk down on the stairs. "Oh, who am I kidding? I'm already fuckin' 'attached'."

"So does that mean you'll take him back?" Stephanie asked casually, suddenly appearing from behind a box.

Robbie started and shrieked. "Where the f... freaking heck did you come from?" he demanded.

"I'm sneaky," she replied nonchalantly.

"You can say that again," he said, wiping a hand over his brow melodramatically.

"So, going to take him back?"

"I did tell him he was awful and kick him out."

"He'll forgive you," she said confidently.

"How can you be so sure? Surely he didn't go crying to you about it, you're just a kid, and humans have some weird taboo about same-gender relations which I'm pretty sure he'd respect."

"Because Elves are obliged by their magic to be monogamous. His only other option is to break the marital bond, which is dangerous enough that even though he was willing to let you go without a fight if you wanted to, he's not going to refuse to come back if you want him; especially after I told him off for being willing to risk breaking the bond without telling you about it."

"His species has automatic magical marriage bonds, and he didn't bother to tell me at all, let alone _first_?" Robbie asked incredulously.

Stephanie nodded.

He sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "How dangerous?"

"Even chance of killing him," she replied softly.

"Stupid blue elf," he growled, and stamped towards the exit.

* * *

Sportacus was awoken from his drowse by a rather angry Robbie dragging him up to sitting by the front of his vest.

"Are you suicidal or something?" he hissed, once he seemed sure Sportacus was awake enough to understand him. He sounded remarkably like the cat did that time he accidentally stood on her tail.

"Of course not," Sportacus replied.

"Then why --" he started to say.

"Because I didn't want you to feel obligated. Because I don't _want_ you out of pity, or duty, or --" Sportacus never did get the next word out, because Robbie grabbed his collar and kissed him. Kissed him _viciously_, and then pulled away, leaving Sportacus with bruised lips, and, he realised after a second, the horrified stares of Pixel, Ziggy, Stingy and Trixie.

'_Crap_. That can't have looked good to the kids,' he thought. Not only was it in violation of this human culture's (weakening, but even so) homosexuality taboos, but surely it had looked more like an act of violence than an act of love. For that matter, if he hadn't already known about Robbie, it would have _felt_ like an act of violence.

The violent impression the children no doubt had wasn't helped by Robbie, still clearly angry, grabbing his arm and starting to drag him in the direction of his home. The bond-break induced lethargy meant he didn't have the strength to break free, and trying to struggle would only make the children certain Robbie was abducting him, pretty much the last thing he needed right now.

Ziggy was the first to break out of the stunned silence, and with typical impulsiveness and resourcefulness dashed over and thwacked Robbie in a shin with his lollipop. Robbie screeched, and let go to hop about clutching his leg and swearing quietly but audibly. Real swearing too, some of the crudest language in English and the Faerie common tongue, though thankfully more of it was Faerie than English.

"Ziggy!" Sportacus protested.

"But he was ... I ..." Ziggy stuttered.

"I understand that this is confusing," Sportacus said as calmly as he could, crouching to Ziggy's level, and nearly falling over due to his dulled reflexes, "But Robbie wasn't really hurting me, and I think _you_ hurt _him_ rather badly."

"I think it might be broken, actually," Robbie said with remarkable composure, now sitting on the bench holding his leg. It would practically have been hysterics for _Sportacus_, but this was Robbie after all.

"I'm sorry," Ziggy squeaked, and launched himself at Sportacus for a hug which nearly tipped him over again.

"That's ridiculous," Trixie said, as he patted Ziggy's shoulder. "I know lollipops are hard, but do you really think _Ziggy_ has the strength to break bones?"

Sportacus let Ziggy go, allowed the bond to reassert itself, and felt energy flowing back into him more intensely than sportscandy.

"Come on," he said, standing up, going back to the bench, and scooping Robbie up, careful of his leg.

"Whoa! Wait, where are we going?" Robbie asked, as Sportacus started walking.

"The hospital. If you've got a broken leg..."

"Oh, right," he replied. There was a pause as he glanced back over Sportacus's shoulder, then he continued, "You realise Gremlins think that taking someone to the hospital is romantic?"

"I do now," Sportacus replied, outwardly calmly, but inwardly panicking. Gremlins _liked_ injuries bad enough to require near-immediate medical attention? Robbie had been right the first time, hadn't he?

* * *

Dr Honey was Ziggy's mother, and like her son was short, fair, plump and amiable.

"Now, once the plaster dries you'll be right to go, Mr Rotten, though I strongly suggest getting a bone mineral density test done, given how easily your tibia broke. Osteoporosis gets harder to treat as you get older," she said to Robbie. Robbie glowered back at her from his place on the examination table, and did not answer.

"Thank you," Sportacus replied for him. "I'll do my best to see he gets one."

"You're welcome, Sportacus. I'm still having trouble getting my head around _my Ziggy_ breaking legs, though."

"He didn't mean to," Sportacus assured her, "and he _thought_ he was protecting me."

"Still, I'll have to have a talk with him when I get home," she said as she pulled off her plaster-coated gloves and binned them. She then pulled a box of mints from her pocket, popped one in her mouth, and bustled out, leaving a rather awkward silence.

"So..." Robbie said once the silence had stretched out beyond awkward and into downright embarrassing. "Are we on again?"

"Of course we are," said Sportacus lightly. 'I can do this,' he assured himself. 'If he needs to be hurt, then it's not just _all right_, I have to.'


	3. Chapter 3

AN: the Elven naming system started off based on the later Roman one, but I had to adjust it for so much stuff that pretty much the only remaining thing worth noting is the bad Latin, including my bizarre re-purposing of the word _gens_. Also, Merry Christmas if you celebrate it.

* * *

Sportacus got home from taking Robbie back to his place from the hospital to find a mail tube lying on the floor.  
The contents read:  
_Decius Sportacus:  
The news you took a risk with a non-elf and are currently attempting to break the marriage bond so formed was received with concern.  
Your aunt Argenta Jewelia, and your sibling-selves Prima Sportacia and Septimus Sportacus are on their way to LazyTown as I write. Your other brother, Aurelius Jewelius, and I will follow with all possible haste.  
Magic grant that this not be our last correspondence.  
Your loving mother,_

_Lapillia Jewelia Sportacia_

Sportacus smiled. His mother's _gens_, the Jeweliuses, were ridiculously formal at times, and such an obviously impractical formality like using his full name as the salutation of what was otherwise a quick note made him feel a bit homesick.  
He was just pondering what to say in reply when another tube popped through the floor.

_Hey, 10, mind giving us a clue where you are?  
1_  
It read.  
He chuckled, imagining his aunt hovering disapprovingly over 1's shoulder as she wrote.  
He got a piece of paper out, and wrote quickly.  
_Coming down now, I'll explain when I see you.  
10_  
He sent the letter, and hurried down via the ladder.

* * *

There was a small gaggle of worried-looking people around the mailbox with the launcher. At first, Trixie thought one of them was Sportacus, but the number on the back of his vest was 7, not 10, and he was a bit younger-looking. The other two were an old lady in grey, who, Trixie thought, looked a bit like someone had stretched Bessie and bleached her hair, and a young woman who looked like a girl version of Sportacus, wearing number 1.  
The lady spotted her, and called out: "Excuse me, young lady!"  
"Hullo," Trixie replied.  
"Have you seen Sportacus?" the girl asked, with the same accent as Sportacus.  
"I haven't seen him since he took Robbie to the hospital earlier this afternoon," Trixie replied.  
"Did he seem unwell?" the man asked .  
Trixie shrugged. "He was really sleepy for a bit, but he seemed to get better pretty quickly after Ziggy broke Robbie's leg. He was well enough to carry Robbie there."  
The lady's brow wrinkled. "Could he have?"  
"We've always been very dedicated,"the man said.  
"It's not unlike us for him to have done so, despite the risk," the girl added.  
"Then it is imperative we find him at once." said the lady decisively.  
"Nice thought, Aunt Argenta Jewelia, "said the girl "but we have..."  
"No idea where to start looking," the man finished.  
Trixie saw a blue paper aeroplane pass behind them, spiralling down and around, until it hit the girl in the shoulder.  
She unfolded it jerkily. "He says he'll be down to explain in a moment," she said, as Sportacus jumped off his ladder behind her, where none of them were looking. Trixie opened her mouth to greet him, but Sportacus put a finger to his lips, moved the last few steps with an exaggerated sneaking motion that made her work to suppress a giggle, and put a hand on one each off the girl's and the man's shoulders.  
"Boo," he said conversationally.  
"Ten!" they exclaimed together, and gathered him into a group hug.  
After he hugged them back with obvious joy, he turned to the lady, stepped up to her, kissed her cheek formally, and stepped back, still smiling.  
"You look well, Aunt Argenta Jewelia," he said.  
"You look better than I had expected, Decius Sportacus, considering your letter to your mother," she replied.  
"It all worked out in the wash." He glanced across at Trixie. "Hello, Trixie. I suppose I'd better introduce you to my family. This is my aunt, Argenta Jewelia Marcia, and my brother and sister, Sportacus number Seven and Sportacia number One. Aunt, siblings, this is a friend of mine, Trixie Lee."  
"So, are there actually ten of you?" Trixie asked, rather confused by the fact the eldest seemed to have the highest number.  
"No, just us three, and another brother who's a Jewelius," said One.  
"The numbers don't _mean_ anything," Sportacus added. "It's just what we're called."  
"OK, I'll see you later then," Trixie said.  
"Don't get into too much mischief," Sportacus replied, as she wandered off

* * *

"Well, you're still bonded, I see," said One, once Trixie was out of earshot.  
"I take it he changed his mind," said Seven.  
"Why ever did you do something so stupid?" Argenta Jewelia asked. "I know Sportacuses are prone to impulsiveness, but what you did was _extremely_ reckless."  
"Isn't love worth the risk?" Ten said, aware that he and Robbie hadn't worded it that way to each other, at least not yet.  
One's eyes narrowed, and although scepticism came off her in waves, because of their aunt's presence she vocalized nothing, leaving the matter to be resolved within the _gens_.  
"What species is he, at least? You only told your mother non-elf, and you would have specified if he were merely human, I believe."  
"Gremlin," said Seven, a little disapprovingly.  
_Let him vocalise his own thoughts_, One weighed in silently. _Why do you disapprove?_  
Seven shared information with her that was akin to that in the book, obviously acquired by the gens since Ten had last been a proper part off it, and not previously shared with _her_ because she was a minor.  
"Excuse me, young ones, but I would be grateful if the conversation took place aloud, so as to include elves of other gens," said Aunt Argenta Jewelia.  
"Sorry," said One.  
"Still, it matters none. What's done is done, and since it appears the marriage continues after all, the next order of business should be the nuptial celebrations."  
"A party?" said One excitedly, bouncing on her toes. "Can we have kiwi fruit? And strawberries? Oh, and fresh cream. Venison? That's a good meat for a function, isn't it? "  
Ten shook his head. "No meat, One. One of the grooms, and quite a few of the likely guests aren't Elven, and it wouldn't be polite."  
"Gremlins and humans eat meat," she said, confused.  
"True, but they usually cook it first."  
"Ew."  
"Which I suspect would be their reaction to our ways, so no meat. I don't know about the cream, either. Humans usually cook their milk as well, though they don't usually think of it as cooked."

* * *

Stephanie was on her way home from the park to do some work on her and Ziggy's assignment. She pondered how much of what she had learnt was appropriate to include, given that she _was_ working with a seven year old.  
She balanced along the tops of the low walls as she walked, jumping over the posts onto more clear wall beyond. On one post, distracted by the idea to just be very clinical and include it all, she slipped, and tumbled towards the coloured concrete that made up LazyTown's streets.  
There was a split second of fear, a flash of blue, and she was landing, rather predictably really, in strong arms. Strong arms that couldn't be Sportacus's, she realised, because he didn't have breasts, or braids. Nor did he smell so good. She looked up. The face she saw could almost have been Little Sportacus's, though it was cute on her in an entirely different way to him.  
"Hi," she said.

* * *

One had been closer, and marginally faster due to not having had several days of inactivity recently, and so was the one to stop Stephanie dashing her brains out all over LazyTown's main street.  
"Hi," Stephanie said awkwardly, once she looked up, and seemingly realised that One was not Ten.  
One put her back on her feet, then stared blankly at her, accidentally broadcasting an hysterical internal litany of equal parts _'say something, Sportacia'_ and _'oh my magic, she's so freaking cute'_.  
Ten stepped in to rescue her from the horrible threat, practically a fate worse than death to a child One's age, of making a fool of herself.  
"Hello Stephanie. I see you met my little sister, Number One."  
"You can call me Sportacia," One added.  
Stephanie looked at her suspiciously. "I can see the resemblance, but I thought it was a brother you had to replace you."  
"No, we've got one of those too. Wait, what do you mean replace him?" One asked.  
Ten blushed, and shared the exchange.  
"You... you oaf! Don't tell me you actually expected that to comfort her."  
"Not really," Sportacus said, embarrassed. "Sorry Stephanie."  
"You were scared too, weren't you?" Stephanie asked.  
Sportacus nodded sheepishly, and she hugged him.  
"I forgive you. Just don't do it again."  



	4. Chapter 4

Sorry about the delay. I gotted writers' blocked.

* * *

"So, were you planning to consult me about this wedding business?" Robbie asked in Faerie, when Sportacus came back down the next morning.  
Sportacus shrugged. "Aunts always take over. It's traditional." He didn't seem terribly surprised that Robbie knew, but then his periscope and the way noise above ground echoed down here were probably already known to Sportacus by now.  
"I was thinking more about the fact of having one, not so much the arrangements."  
Sportacus laughed, and sat on the arm of Robbie's chair. "We're _already_ married in the eyes of every elf alive, and legalities are unfortunately irrelevant here. It's really just a party."  
"At which we announce to a whole town of _humans_ we're ..." Robbie trailed off uncomfortably.  
"Robbie, are you saying you want us to be _closeted_?" Sportacus asked incredulously, turning back to English for the last word, as a word for the concept didn't exist in the Faerie common tongue. "The Doctor and all the children already know. Any one of them could let it slip to Bessie, and then the rest of the town will find out pretty quickly. Making it clear that this," he took Robbie's hand, weaving their fingers together in a way that Robbie found disturbingly tender, "is normal by celebrating it is less likely to cause our friends discomfort than allowing rumours to spread."  
"I think you mean your friends. I'll trust you," Robbie said, "but that doesn't mean _I'm_ sure."  
Sportacus grinned, dropped his hand, and leaned over to kiss him. It was another of those bafflingly soft kisses Sportacus favoured, this time given just enough bite to be properly pleasurable by Sportacus winding a hand into his hair and tugging.  
Robbie pulled away for a second. "There has to be _real_ cake, not just those cake-shaped fruit things Stephanie makes for your birthday."  
"Of course. I doubt Stephanie would have it any other way."

* * *

Sportacia was using a tree branch in the park for some pull-ups when Stephanie walked past, carrying a backpack. She jumped down, and hurried after her.  
"Off to school?" she asked, as she caught up.  
Stephanie smiled shyly. "Yeah. What about you?"  
"It's holiday time at the moment," Sportacia said, nervously twisting one of her braids around her finger. "I've got some homework, but I couldn't be here if I had to go to school." She paused. "May I walk you the rest of the way?"  
Stephanie looked stunned for a moment, then recovered. "Sure."  
It took some seconds of adjustment, but they discovered that trying to tuck Stephanie's hand into her elbow was rather awkward since Sportacia was the shorter of the pair, so Sportacia tucked her hand into Stephanie's elbow instead, which worked admirably, and they set off, both rather nervously.  
It was barely a block to the school, which given the size of the town didn't really surprise Sportacia. One thing did, though: the school was quite clearly indicated by its sign to be LazyTown Elementary. She let go.  
"Elementary school?" she asked, feeling a little strange. "I thought you were older than that."  
"The school system assumes a human rate of growth," Stephanie said, staring at the line on the road just in front of Sportacia's boots. "I'm ... not quite."  
"Oh," said Sportacia blankly. She wasn't at all surprised that Stephanie wasn't human, but it was strange trying to imagine what in the seelie and unseelie courts she could be that aged _faster_ than humans did. "What are you then?"  
"A Sprite. And I'm nearly ten."  
"I'm an almost forty-four-year-old Elf," replied Sportacia, which finally made Stephanie look up, presumably in surprise.  
"We're really _not_ on the same time scale, are we?" Stephanie asked.  
Sportacia shook her head. "I guess not. See you after school?"  
"See you," replied Stephanie, and disappeared into the building.

* * *

Number Seven had just brought his soccer training exercise to a close, when his crystal beeped. "Someone's in trouble," he said, then added, "Number One?" when it told him who needed help. He hurried to the platform.  
One didn't appear to be in any obvious trouble once the crystal had guided him to her, and it didn't prompt any further action, so he merely greeted her.  
"Morning, sis," he said. "Are you all right?"  
She shared a conversation of what must only have been minutes ago, made out, with adolescent melodrama, to be heartbreaking. Seven could hear the mental violin soundtrack.  
"Prima Sportacia, you hardly know her," he pointed out.  
"I know," she sighed, and sagged against him.  
He put his arms around her and tucked her under his chin. "Don't be in such a hurry. Look at what a mess Ten got himself into by not thinking."  
"I'm only forty," she said petulantly. "What's his excuse?"  
"Mid-life crisis?" Seven suggested mildly.  
"I thought mid-life crises were supposed to happen in mid-life. He's not even 150 yet." She paused, forehead wrinkling. "How fast do _Gremlins_ age?"  
"A little faster than Elves, but not so fast as to be an obvious reason not to do it. Unlike everything else about them."  
She squeezed him a little tighter, then pulled away. As she did so, both their crystals beeped. Both crystal-bearers turned as one, and raced in the direction indicated. Seven was a little faster, and arrived in time to catch a curvy, blue-haired, middle-aged woman as she tumbled backwards for no apparent reason.  
Seven lowered her to the ground, and One knelt beside her.  
"Are you all right?"  
"I feel a bit faint," she replied. "Thank you, Sp..."she started to say, then she focused her eyes properly, and realised he wasn't Ten. "You're not Sportacus," she complained, starting to sit up.  
"Yes he is. He's just Number Seven, the one you know is Number Ten, our big brother," One explained. "I'm Number One. You can call me Sportacia, 'cause that's not so likely to confuse you."  
Seven glanced down, then across at One. Both crystals continued to blink in perfect synchrony. _Medical attention,_ they thought.  
"I really think we ought to take you to the hospital," One said aloud. "You didn't just fall down, you fainted, that doesn't happen for no reason."

* * *

"One forty-two over 86," said Doctor Honey, pulling the stethoscope from her ears, and starting to pull the blood pressure cuff off. "That's too high, but high blood pressure alone doesn't cause faintness."  
"It's not a change of life symptom, either," Bessie replied.  
"You've been having peri-menopausal symptoms?"  
"Not that I noticed, but I seem to have stopped, and I'm the right age."  
"Stopped? Your periods? You're having amenorrhoea?" the doctor asked.  
Bessie nodded.  
"But you were regular before that?"  
"Yes."  
"How long since your last menstrual period?" The doctor scooted around the desk in her chair, and retrieved a specimen jar.  
"Four months, maybe, but why ..."  
"Are you sexually active?"  
"I don't see what that's got to do with anything," Bessie said, affronted.  
"Humour me. Go pee in the jar," Doctor Honey said, indicating the small bathroom off the examination room.

* * *

"Congratulations."  
"What?"  
"You're not menopausal, you're pregnant. Either that was a yes on the sexual activity question, or we better start calling you Mary."  
"I'm _far_ too old."  
"You said yourself you have no peri-menopause symptoms. Everyone's different, it's perfectly normal for human menopause to be as late as 55."  
"Goodness," said Bessie, resting her hands on her stomach, suddenly aware of how round it was. "Stephanie's going to have a cousin."  
"That's assuming you both make it. I hate to be negative, Bessie, but you _are_ a 46-year-old primigravida who is showing signs of hypertension of pregnancy and has had no prenatal care before now. There are no guarantees even for a young healthy woman who is being looked after."

* * *

(primigravida is doctor-speak for woman who is having her first pregnancy.)


	5. Chapter 5

I think we can safely say I'll never keep up with the chapter-every-few-days pace of some authors in this fandom. (seriously, how does she do that?) OK, I did have another couple of plot bunnies nibble me in the meantime, and I have a fairly major scene of next chapter written (it was originally part of this one, but it was ...wrong, needed another few scenes before it), but still, it's been a while. Sorry.

* * *

Milford opened the door of the room Nurse Lee had indicated, hiding the quickly gathered bunch of flowers behind his back. "Bessie?"  
"Milford, finally," she said. She'd taken her hair down and braided it, and was wearing no make-up, and seemed more beautiful than ever.  
"Whatever's the matter?" He asked, producing the flowers and putting them in the vase on the bedside table. "Number Seven couldn't tell me anything except that you fainted and were admitted."  
"I stopped having periods. I just thought I'd reached the change, but it turns out I'm five months pregnant, and I've got high blood pressure. The doctor thinks it may even be pre-eclampsia, she has to do more tests."  
"Oh," Milford said. He glanced at the floor. The bed was too high to be easily reached when kneeling, but on the other hand things deserved to be done properly, even in this irregular situation.  
"Don't you even think it, Milford Meanswell," Bessie said sternly before he had a chance to move. "Do you think I decided to use the title 'Ms' on a whim?"  
Milford stared at her for a second, stunned. "Bessie, I'd _never_ make you do anything you didn't want to, including giving up your name. I just thought ..."  
She took a deep breath and patted her hair. "It doesn't matter." She then glanced at the door, and added in a low, confidential voice, "You'll _never_ guess what Dr Honey let slip about Sportacus, though."

* * *

Robbie ran a careful, deliberate feeling, finger over the bite on Sportacus's neck. "You're still marked from last time," he noted aloud.  
Sportacus cast him a drowsy glance from where his head was pillowed on Robbie's thigh. "It was only a few days ago, of course I am." Something occurred to him though, and he sat up, rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes, and looked Robbie over. Aside from the plastered leg, all Robbie's injuries were fresh. Not so much as a greenish fading bruise.  
"Did Dr Honey say when she expects the plaster to come off?"  
"She wants to take another x-ray on Monday, maybe then, if not, Wednesday. Why?"  
"If _I_ broke my leg, I'd be in plaster six weeks, not six days."  
"Six weeks?" Robbie yelped. The marriage bond, not nearly as clear or strong as his connection with his _gens_, but still there if he listened, was strongly flavoured with Robbie's surprise and discomfit.  
"Most people heal at about that rate," Sportacus said. "I guess it makes sense for you to be faster, though ..."  
"I knew _Humans_ healed slowly, I thought it was because they have no magic."  
"Some Elves can heal with magic, but we have to learn how, otherwise it's just our bodies."

* * *

"I considered not keeping it when the doctor said it was dangerous, but," she sighed, "it's too late already."  
"You're the important one," Milford said fondly. "Don't go being noble. It's barely even baby-shaped yet."  
"I _mean_ I'm too far along for it to be legal. I thought it was only four months, but Dr Honey measured her on the ultrasound, and she's too big."  
"She? It's a girl?" Milford felt his eyes go wide, as suddenly he realised the pregnancy was a potential person, not just a threat, to Bessie's health, to their respectability. He suddenly itched to discuss naming her.  
"Yes, a girl. Now be a dear and go get me some water. You gave all mine to the flowers."

* * *

"That can't be right!" Trixie said aloud in the middle of project work time. Everybody looked up disapprovingly, then went back to their work, except Stephanie.  
"What can't be?" she asked quietly, scooting her chair over.  
"This book. It says Sprites are Unseelie." Sprites _couldn't_ be bad faeries, Stephanie was one.  
"No, that's right."  
"But you're ..."  
"You think I don't _know_ that?" she hissed.  
"Stephanie?" Trixie was very confused.  
She took a very deep breath, and held it for a second. "I'll explain when you're older, Trixie," she said, plastering on a smile and her voice full of fake-sounding cheer, a very poor replacement for her normal optimism.

* * *

Sportacus's brother didn't seem to like Robbie. Since he looked and otherwise acted _exactly the same way_, and Robbie had thought Sportacus was temperamentally incapable of disliking people, this was really quite disturbing. The sister and aunt chattered through wedding plans around them, mentioning several dozen little marriage traditions they obviously took for granted and he'd never heard of before. He found himself wishing for the simplicity of a Gremlin "I'll keep you", or even the human "something borrowed, something blue" that he'd thought so ridiculous once.  
There was a pause, and his aunt dug through her bag, pulled out a grey velvet jeweller's box and handed it to him. "Now, I understand you wouldn't have got Decius Sportacus a bell because your people don't, but it really is a disgrace for a married elf to not be belled, so I threw a little thing together in my airship this morning." The 'thrown together' 'little thing' was a small royal blue glass bell, delicately etched with flowers, and Cursive Faerie that read 'Decius Sportacus Rotten' running around the edge, tear-drop-shaped clapper on a fine silver chain lying beside it on the velvet liner. "I made sure the clapper is detachable, because I know Sportacuses run around too much to be jingling every time they move." She turned to Sportacus, the silver bell on her hat tinkling softly with the movement. "I am sorry it's only glass, but I was just expecting a quick trip, and only my glass-blowing things weren't in the house."  
Sportacus smiled at her. "That's quite all right, Aunt Argenta Jewelia, it's the thought that counts." He paused, brow furrowing. "It might break, though."  
Robbie muttered a quick anti-breaking spell over it. "That should have care of that. Now what do I do with it?"  
His sister reached into her backpack, and pulled out a reel of blue thread and a needle. "You sew it on, of course. Ten, give him your hat."

* * *

AN: Should point out I agree with Bessie's stance on the foetus -- it's probably a bit late to be just taking care of an accident, but this is a threat to her _life _here_._


End file.
